


Dream Date

by jedi_penguin



Category: Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: F/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-02
Updated: 2012-09-02
Packaged: 2017-11-13 09:08:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/501820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jedi_penguin/pseuds/jedi_penguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A missing scene between "Happiness Patrol" and "Silver Nemesis."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dream Date

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LillyRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LillyRose/gifts).



Ace had been travelling with the Doctor long enough that she’d seen many people die, even blokes as nice as Harold B. She never got used to it. Just as she never lost her simmering rage against authority figures. Or tyrants. Or cruel toerags who mocked the deaths of good people. Tyrannical toerags with ill-gotten authority over her were right out of it, especially when they were saying nasty things about poor Harold B.

The Doctor, of course, didn’t like her expressing her understandable anger. “Cool it, Ace.”

She would have listened to the Doctor—of course she would have. She knew how to follow orders. Sort of—but that pink-haired pastry had to stick her oar right back in it. “Rather **shocking** experience…”

“Let me shut her up,” Ace screamed. 

“Save it, save it!” the Doctor growled. Before Ace could object, he was grabbing hold of her, wrestling with her until he had her pinned. “Come on. You’re no good to me like this,” he panted.

“Like what?” she demanded.

The Doctor gave her a semi-mocking smile, the look he normally reserved for scumbags that were about to get nailed. The look that had been making her a bit weak in the knees, lately. “Why clothed, of course.” Suddenly, their jailer was gone, as were the ugly grey walls of the Waiting Zone. Ace was completely naked and the Doctor’s cold hands burned her bare arms. “That’s better,” he purred, “but still not quite right.” He placed his hat on her head and nodded in satisfaction.

Arms now free, Ace reached to loosen the Doctor’s tie… only to fall as the room began to shake with a familiar wheezing sound. And with that, Ace was back in her room in the TARDIS, heart pounding far harder than it had when she faced the Candyman. 

“I think you do that on purpose,” she told the ceiling. “Landing before I get to the good part.” With a sigh, she slipped on her slippers and jogged to the console room.

“Ah, Ace,” the Doctor boomed happily as she ran into the room. “You’re awake!”

“I am now,” she complained with a feigned grumpiness. “We’ve landed. What do you have planned for us now, Professor?”

“I rather think that a change of pace is in order,” he told her with a smile. “That dreadful elevator music from Terra Alpha is still ringing in my ears, so I thought that we could both benefit from a little rrrrrest and recuperation.”

Ace smiled, as she usually did whenever the Doctor put a bit of a flourish on his r’s. “So we’re on Earth? During the Cretaceous period?”

The Doctor shook his head. “I’m afraid not. While running from dinosaurs would be recreational, I’m afraid that it wouldn’t be very restful.”

“Aw, Professor,” Ace whined. “You promised.”

He continued on as if she’d said nothing. “We are, however, on Earth. I thought that a nice, peaceful concert might be a pleasant change of pace for us.”

Ace dropped her head dejectedly. “So I suppose that means we’re in Germany, somewhere? Mid-eighteenth century? Here to listen to Beethoven or some other boring bloke like that? That’s not nearly as good as dinosaurs.”

“Boring? Beethoven?” The Doctor gave her a rather severe look. “Beethoven isn’t the slightest bit boring, as I’m sure I’ll prove to you one day. But not today. Today, we’re in Windsor, England, 1988, to hear Courtney Pine play his saxophone.”

“Courtney Pine?” Ace was intrigued in spite of herself. “I don’t think I’ve heard of him.”

“Haven’t you?” the Doctor asked curiously. “He is from your era, after all.”

Ace felt a sickening twist to her stomach. When the Doctor had invited her to travel with him, he’d made it clear that he would be taking her back to her own time eventually. Perhaps this was it, a final celebration before he threw her off the TARDIS? Perhaps he’d reconsider if he knew how much she still had to learn. “Not too many bands come to Perivale, so I mostly followed the jazzier bands from the radio, like Curiosity Killed the Cat and The Pet Shop Boys. I bet there’s a lot of good music from my era that I never had a chance to hear.” 

“If you like ‘jazzier’ groups, then I’m certain you’ll like Courtney Pine,” the Doctor assured her. “His first album came out in 1986, but he continued playing for over thirty years, eventually earning both an OBE and a CBE for being Britain’s premier jazz musician. In 1988, he’s well known enough to get good gigs, but still unknown enough that I can easily get tickets. We can go to another concert afterwards if you don’t like Pine, but I suspect that street blowing jazz will be your favorite music after you’ve had a chance to hear it.”

Reassured that the Doctor didn’t intend to dump her off in Perivale, Ace let a wide smile take over her face. “Sounds wicked fun, Professor! Thanks! Let’s go!”

The Doctor smiled indulgently. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” Ace looked at him blankly and his smile widened further. “I don’t believe you’re quite dressed for a concert. Or at least not a jazz concert; you might be able to get away with that get up if we were going to see Joan Jett or Sid Vicious, but Great Britain’s greatest saxophonist requires a bit more rrrrrrefinement.”

Ace glanced down at her bare legs and reddened painfully. She’d run to the console room in her nightshirt, and a rather short one at that. Looking at the Doctor with his jacket, jumper, tie, and scarf, Ace found herself remembering her dream with a disquieting clarity. “How should I dress for this concert, then?”

“Your regular clothes should do nicely,” he assured her.

“Aw, Professor. That’s no fun! Shouldn’t I dress it up a bit?” Dream still firmly in mind, Ace found herself asking, “I mean, it’s kind of like a date. Could I at least borrow your hat?”

“My hat?” The Doctor looked at her disbelievingly. “You want to borrow my hat?” He smiled at her. “Perhaps later.”

Noting that the Doctor hadn’t corrected her calling this concert a ‘date,’ Ace couldn’t help beaming at him. “I bet I’ll look wicked good in it,” she said happily.

“I rather suspect you will,” the Doctor admitted.

Dreams merging pleasantly with reality, Ace went to dress for their next adventure.

THE END


End file.
